


It Sure Been a Cold, Cold Winter

by humanwinter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanwinter/pseuds/humanwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I'd only just seen you the day before that," Harry says. "I thought I better come up with some excuse to go out there to you. Maybe say you looked cold, pull a Hansel and Gretel sort of thing and lure you with treats. Turns out you did look cold and I didn't have to leave bread crumbs,"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Sure Been a Cold, Cold Winter

The wind rips through Niall's hair, but somehow the only thing he can hear is his teeth chattering and the scrape of his shovel against the concrete. It's been snowing for weeks but he's only just now been called to the job. He figures it was put off until the sidewalks were completely untreadable—probably to save money—but he's been doing this every winter since he was eleven so he doesn't let it get under his skin. Especially since he's got four layers of clothes on.

He stops mid shovel and straightens up, feeling a sneeze begin to tingle his nose. It comes in full force, throwing him forward to rest his hands on his knees. He sniffles as he tosses the snow off the shovel and straightens up again. As always, he begins to pass the time by singing.

~

It's almost unbelievable how much snow can build up in a night. When Niall comes to work the next afternoon it's almost three feet deep. He sighs but uses his shovel as a microphone when he gets to the bridge of each song, and by evening the paths are clear and his chords are raw.

"You're sure to catch frostbite this way," his mother says as she places a hot bowl of thick soup in his pale hands.

"You're a positive one, aren't ya?" Niall replies, steadily bringing the bowl up to the tip of his nose to warm him. "Hmmm,"

"At the table, please, honey." She says, pressing a hand to his back. "Next time you get cold, go over to that little shop and get you a coffee. Keep that throat of yours nice and warm."

"Mmmm, hmm..." Niall moans around the spoon in his mouth as he leans over the table.

~

A few days go by before Niall actually considers the bakery to his left. He looks over at it after he stretches his back; twisting his arms at strange angles and making his bones crack.

The windows are iced around the edges where the snow tries to cling on after the warmth of the bakery melts it off the center. Behind the company name of stick-on letters is an old woman leaning over the counter, handing a plate to a customer. Beside her is a tall boy who happens to look out the window once Niall turns away.

~

It's dusk when Niall leans the shovel against a pile of snow, rubs his hands together, and heads towards the bakery.

He only takes two steps, though, before a muffled _ding!_ is heard and a boy tries his hardest to walk fast down one of the paths Niall paved. He stops in front of Niall, his hair already dusted white, and Niall notices a steamy styrofoam cup in his hands.

"Hello," Niall says after a moment, since all the boy’s doing is looking at him. And seeing him up close he gives calling him a boy a second thought.

"Hi, you look cold." Is all he says.

Niall's hands automatically go up to feel his cheeks; which he can't, since both his hands and face are numb. He can actually feel the redness of his nose, too, and for a fleeting moment he feels embarrassed. Too many thoughts go through his mind in the time it should take for him to reply, but by the time his hands leave his face the boy— _guy? man?_ —is cocking his head towards the bakery, and Niall is already quietly following him.

Inside is warm and smells of a mix between pine and dough. Niall lets himself breathe it in, thankful that he did not, in fact, lose his sense of smell during this harsh winter.

He stomps his feet on the mat by the door and looks around. Even the colors are warm with deep reds and browns, cozy little nooks of booths for seating and dim lighting.

The display window beside the cash register is empty, all the sandwiches and pastries somewhere preserved for the night.

The tall-pretty cute-green eyed-dude hands Niall the styrofoam cup with his eyebrows raised, and Niall takes it, suddenly full of new energy with the warmth running down his fingers.

"What's your name?" The brown haired- _(wow are those curls?)_ -long legged-guy asks.

"Niall," Niall says around the rim of his cup, letting the steam bring back the feeling in his nose.

"Hi Niall, I'm Harry," Harry says, untying the apron Niall didn't know he was wearing and hanging it on a hook behind the counter.

"Hello Harry," Niall says, "Do I look better?" he asks as he lifts his face from the cup.

Harry laughs and touches his own nose.

Niall quickly touches his nose then, feeling the foam on the tip. Apparently the feeling wasn't back yet completely.

"I like your accent," Harry says, leaning forward on the counter.

Niall notices something in his smile and a string of fitting words pass through his mind that all start with the letter c. _Charming, cheeky, cute... cozy. His smile looks cozy._

"Thank you," Niall says, which comes out more like ' _tankyou_ ' and Harry smiles bigger while Niall is busy thinking about his probably-warmer-mouth.

He sips his drink—which turns out to be incredibly rich hot chocolate—and doesn't part his mouth from it for a full minute, giving Harry time to practice his admiration stare.

 _Niall's cheeks are really pink._ Harry thinks, _They seem to get brighter the longer he sips and, oh god, he is so vibrant now... please stop sipping..._

"Do you always feed the hungry and shelter the poor?" Niall asks, finally lowering his cup, which is surprisingly still nearly full.

Harry just laughs and pushes himself off the counter to go around and sit in the closest booth.

"I was just wondering… you know, if you needed some back up dancers for your performances."

Niall starts to laugh, then stops, realizing he had a most likely real audience all this time.

"It's okay, don't worry. I can really add to it, I wouldn't let you down." Harry continues, standing back up and busting out a few overly dramatic moves.

Niall blushes, despite the joke, and sits down across from Harry.

"You should really invest in some gloves, you know." Harry says once he's back in his seat.

Niall glances down at his pale, red finger tipped hands with stubs of fingernails, the skin a blotchy mix of pink and white from the cold.

Harry gets up without another word and shuffles around behind the counter, bending down several times before pulling out a bundle of dark blue material. It unfolds as he walks back over to Niall holding it up, upon which Niall beholds the thick 100% cotton jumper with the bakery logo in the center. A miracle.

Niall sets his cup down and reaches out to take it. He hesitates for a second, looking up at Harry.

"Am I allowed this stuff? Will you get in trouble?"

Harry just shrugs and puts the jumper on the table in front of Niall before sitting across from him again.

Niall takes one last look at the little smile Harry has on and takes the jumper. He shrugs his coat off before sliding it over his sweater, which he has on over a t-shirt.

"Thank you," Niall says, rubbing his hands over the sleeves.

"You're welcome," Harry just keeps smiling back at him.

Niall decides he isn't creeped out. His eyes are really nice and he looks more like an admirer than anything. A secret admirer silently giving himself away? Niall also decides that Harry has been watching him through the window with the way he's shamelessly staring at him. He makes a note to keep an eye out next time.

"I better get home, you know. Me mum... she waits up." Niall says, rubbing his thighs like he's about to stand up even though he doesn't.

"Right," Harry says, leaning back out of his trance. "I stay to close up anyway."

Niall stands, then, and takes his hot chocolate, lifting it to Harry as a way of saying it's coming with him.

"I feel better," Niall says at the door. The cold already touches him from through the glass. "I actually _feel_ ,"

Harry comes over to push the door open for Niall.

"You can keep the jumper," he says as Niall steps outside. "We've got too many. Don't keep the cup though, you can bite right through it. Have a good night."

Niall just smiles and nods once in thanks as he feels Jack Frost nipping at the tips of his ears.

The walk home is warmer in his belly. From the chocolate, the jumper, a couple butterflies.

Niall openly laughs to himself down the sidewalk, not noticing the heads that snap up to look at him through the soft flurry.

~

Niall has Sunday off.

He showers and wears the jumper with his boxers and extremely thick socks.

His mother pours him a cup of coffee when he sits down at the kitchen table, holding his sleeves in his hands in an attempt to wipe away the water still running down his neck.

"You look like a golden retriever just pulled out from the river, honey, use my blow dryer." His mother says as she puts his coffee down.

"I'm trying to not slowly singe my hair, mum, thank you," he says as he takes the kitchen towel she hands to him and ruffles it atop his head.

"And I'm sure your best friend bleach would agree," she says and Niall nods his head. "I see you went to the bakery, did you?" She nods at his jumper.

"Yes, I did," Niall says. "I got special treatment, because I'm a poor hardworking boy." He scoops a spoon of sugar into his coffee.

"Certainly," his mother says. "People just hand you stuff for free, _'He's so cute, marry my daughter'_."

"Shh, mum, I don't want my twelve wives to overhear you." Niall rolls his eyes. "I met a lad named Harry yesterday, I think he stalks me."

"Is he the one who gave you the jumper?" She asks.

"Yes," Niall says before sipping his coffee. "He looks at me like I just adopted his children."

"He has children?"

"No, I don't think so."

His mother merely looks at him before walking out of the kitchen.

"Blow dry your hair," she calls, "I'm suddenly craving a pie."

~

Niall doesn't even try to play it cool with the fact he looks like he just showed up to a school dance with his mom.

Harry lifts his head as soon as his mother whispers " _Oh, I remember him_ " in his ear at the back of the line. Harry doesn't smile, though, and Niall wishes he stayed in the car.

Niall tries to look anywhere but, and when he finally does look back at the counter Harry is gone—the cashier now a woman in her 60's.

"He's so nervous, he's probably back there checking his hair." Niall's mother whispers in his ear again, which Niall ignores, again. But when Harry does come back out Niall finds himself looking at his hair, thinking he's seeing differences.

His mother takes her box of pie and Harry smiles at Niall before busing a table, and then _ding!_ , they're gone.

~

On Monday afternoon Niall has four feet of snow to shovel and eleven songs lined up on his mental setlist. He starts with some classic rock and roll only to end up humming Christmas tunes when his shovel starts to only hit concrete.

He finds himself overly relieved when he straightens up and sees Harry walking towards him through the snow with his head down. How convenient is it that his job is done as soon as Harry is left to finish up in the bakery?

Niall stands still and lets Harry approach him, just now remembering he meant to check the window every so often, but he didn't look once.

"Come inside?" Harry asks once he's in front of Niall, and Niall repeats history as he follows him back inside the bakery.

Harry's teeth chatter as he locks the door behind Niall with a set of keys that can probably open anything in the shop, even the freezers stocked up with gallons of whipped cream.

"Do you wanna do something fun?" Harry asks, and all he gets back is a sideways glance from Niall. "I mean, I saw this movie once where Meryl Streep had a bakery, so she and this guy made chocolate croissants together."

Niall raises his eyebrows at that.

"Is that also the movie where she eats ice cream in the bath? 'Cause I'm up for that as well."

Harry smiles and grabs Niall's shoulder. "C'mon," and he pulls him through the door behind the counter.

"Are you really allowed to do this?" Niall asks, letting himself be lead through the kitchen.

"The ladies here like to keep my love life their daily source of entertainment," Harry says, and Niall remembers all the old women working here.

"So I'm your love life now, huh?" Niall asks with a smirk on his face, watching Harry instantly catch and regret what he just said.

He takes the keys out again and unlocks a large metal door that opens into the pantry.

"What would you like to order?" Harry asks, turning around to look at Niall with tall shelves of endlessly stocked ingredients behind him.

"Shit," Niall says, taking it all in. "I haven't even looked at your menu."

"Name anything with chocolate and I've got it covered." Harry says.

Niall peers at Harry for a moment.

"Chocolate biscotti," Niall says, remembering an episode he watched on _Good Food_.

"With some coffee, am I right?" Harry asks, his back turned and already lifting a bag of flaxseed.

"Yes, Harry," Niall says, entering the pantry and following Harry around until they've got what's not already in the kitchen.

Harry places the ingredients on the island and switches on a handful of lights so it’s bright enough to see but dim enough to keep the warm essence.

Niall watches Harry combine the dry ingredients, standing so close to his side that Harry takes all his movements with caution to avoid bumping his arm.

He lets Niall mix the bowl while he beats the sugar and eggs. He watches him from the side of his eye, intrigued and a little turned on by the way Niall puts all his focus into mixing. Not one grain of flour leaves the bowl, and Harry is impressed. He lets Niall finish beating with the mixer just to see his brows furrowed together.

Harry adds the vanilla and eventually the mixed dry ingredients into the bowl while Niall keeps doing an exceptional job at beating them all together. He folds in the chocolate and almonds, but next comes the best part, and Harry is suddenly very glad Niall chose biscotti.

Niall steps back as Harry pulls the dough out of the bowl, tearing large chunks until he's got three lumps on the counter. He steps aside to let Niall stand in front of him before coming behind him with his arms outstretched at his sides. He pats some flour on his and Niall's palms.

"Here's the fun part," Harry says, taking Niall's hands and leading them to the first piece of dough. "They've got to be six inches," he says as he pushes Niall's hands to begin rolling the sticky lump.

Niall does it quietly but perfectly, and the flour and dough left stuck on his hands makes Harry smile from over his shoulder. It's also easier, and more comfortable, Harry realizes, that Niall's underarms are at a perfect height for his arms to fit beneath.

When they get to the second piece of dough Niall turns his head back to look at Harry long enough for Harry to fully read his expression. It's one that proves to Harry that Niall's a subtle romantic. He knows what he's doing, his eyes doing their show of sparkling while the slight grin on his lips does the rest.

They roll the last dough into a thick string before Harry (begrudgingly) leaves the comfort of Niall's back to fetch the baking sheet and parchment paper.

There's a _beeeep_ from the oven to notify them that it's finished pre-heating. Harry places the sheets on top of each other before coming back up behind Niall, putting his arms underneath his again and leaning over onto his back.

Niall absently lets out a huff when they're locked into place.

Harry doesn't need to guide Niall's hands as he's already lifting up the rolls and carefully setting them down on the sheet.

"Three inches apart," Harry says in an almost whisper, his chin resting on Niall's right shoulder.

Niall places the next two rolls as directed, then rests his palms face down on the counter for Harry to tell him what to do.

"Now pat," Harry locks his fingers into Niall's and places his floury palms on a piece of dough, "until they're one inch thick," and Niall puts pressure into the dough immediately.

Harry lets Niall have the first one while he pats the second, until Niall is finished and he lets him pat his while he goes onto the third. Niall ends up finishing that one as well while Harry continutes his chin-to-shoulder observing. And instead of Harry removing himself from Niall, Niall just lifts the baking sheet and carries it to the oven where he stops and stands, waiting for Harry to open it for him.

Harry does, and Niall places the sheet on the middle rack, bends back up and lets Harry close the oven.

Niall squats down to stare into it because Harry switched on the oven light as he set the timer and Niall grew up watching cakes rise and the chocolate on cookies melt.

He sits on his butt when Harry joins him, and Harry does the same. He leans back against the cabinets, watching Niall watching their creation cook.

Niall is leaning on his knees, hunched over like he's sulking in the corner, but his face is glowing from the yellow oven light and his messy homemade quiff has come down quite a bit.

"Should we make some coffee?" Harry asks, gently, like the silence is something to be respected.

Niall looks up at him and—god. He nods.

"I'm kinda tired, like," Niall takes his arms off his knees and leans back a little bit. "That was so relaxin',"

Harry lets his smile grow to the sides of his eyes, maybe farther. Who knows where it'd go if Niall actually told him how comfortable he felt with him; how he attracts him like a display bed after a long day at work. Maybe it would go past his eyebrows. Niall has a visual of the Grinch and decides to not think about it anymore. If anything he's Max. Niall has always liked Max.

 _I wonder if I could pass for Cindy Lou Who,_ Niall thinks as he and Harry get to their feet.

The coffee maker is on the other side of the kitchen, and Niall lets Harry do all the work.

He leans against the counter beside him and watches him scoop the coffee, pour it in, pour the water, push a switch—and then there's magic. And a wonderful smell.

"I hope you like classic French roast, because that's what I just made. Sorry." Harry folds his arms as he stands in front of the coffee pot.

"Agh. Hate the French. _Sans saveur_."

Harry's eyebrows raise, and Niall lets out a small laugh at his wide eyes.

" _J'aime le café françai_ s. You're safe."

Harry nods and tells himself he'll try to look it up later, but he's already forgotten the words, just the way Niall says them.

By the time Harry is pouring the coffee into two glass mugs he's still wishing Niall would say more. And he sort of does.

"Oh, _foutre moi_ , that smells good." Niall says as Harry opens the oven, and Harry doesn't even need to guess what he says by the way it comes out of his mouth. It's obviously beautiful.

"Say that again?" Harry asks like a general question— _I'm hard of hearing, a little louder please?_ —as he sets the sheet down on the stovetop.

" _Baiser moi_ , Harry, _foutre moi_." He says with overly dramatic draws at his lips. "You're dirty."

"That was lovely. What did you say?" Harry asks, poking the biscotti with his finger before pulling it back quickly.

Niall is quiet for a moment as he realizes Harry might not know exactly what he said. And that's okay for now.

"It smells good," he says. "What now?"

"There's still more to do. They have to cool for a minute."

Niall makes an impatient noise suddenly, but carefully helps Harry place them on a wire rack anyways. Ten minutes later they're ready to cut, and Harry too eagerly takes his opportunity to stand behind Niall again.

"I've never used a knife, Harry, help me," Niall throatily cries, joking.

Harry takes Niall's hands, hesitating for a moment when he realizes Niall's holding the knife with his left hand, but manages to guide him slowly.

"Oh my god," Niall says after they've made the first diagonal cut, and Harry laughs. He's funny.

When they get to the fifteenth cut Niall lets Harry take the knife himself and quickly finish the rest.

He groans when they've got 30 pieces of biscotti that Harry is placing back in the oven for seven more minutes.

"And another seven on the other side, too." Harry states as he closes the oven, and Niall silently trudges back towards the coffee pot.

"I bet you know how to make a good latte," Niall says, peering into his mug of black liquid sitting on the counter.

"It's what I'm trained for," Harry says, opening a metal fridge Niall hadn't noticed and taking out the milk and sugar. "I'd ask what your preferences are, but I really don't care." He closes the door with his knee.

Niall scoffs.

"No tip for you,"

And despite the joking, Harry asks what Niall likes, Niall doesn't tell, and Harry actually does make what he's trained for.

" _Mmm_ ," Niall smells his coffee as Harry puts the cream and sugar back in the fridge. "Maybe a small tip. Is it done?" He lifts his chin towards the oven.

"Let me turn them over," Harry says, putting on an oven mit.

"When they're out, I don't care, I'll burn my tongue. I'm ready to eat."

Harry laughs and shakes his head into the oven as he flips them over. Getting to know Niall is possibly the greatest thing that's happened this year, and he's already spent 50 weeks of it wasted by not knowing he existed. It could be a cruel world, but here he is, swirling his coffee so the flavor doesn't sink to the bottom. Niall the snow shoveller from out the window.

And he sticks to his word, which is a good trait.

Niall moves his finger around the sheet of steaming biscotti until he finds one pleasing to his eye, and he picks it up, instantly drops it, and yelps.

"Harry, you and your bad ideas," Niall says as Harry runs to turn on the water.

"You're full of smack tonight, aren't you?" Harry says, holding the sink handle up while Niall rubs his fingers underneath the water.

He just blankly shrugs. So tough yet so easy.

Harry takes a plate and stacks the biscotti in a beautiful shape before wrapping the leftovers in tinfoil and leaving them on the rack.

Niall follows Harry through the door with their coffee in his hands while Harry carries the plate.

He sets it down on the first booth table, the one that they sat in the night before last, and they take the same seats.

Niall's ' _mmmmm_ ' seems to go on for several minutes, until he dips the biscotti in his coffee after the second bite and it plops into it.

He groans for the same amount of time, just staring into his coffee like it will magically appear on the top, dry and in one piece.

"Oh well," he says finally, taking another biscotti and heading back for his coffee.

"Wait," Harry says, and Niall freezes, looking up. "It's because they need to be cool to harden. It'll drop in again."

Niall sighs.

"You know everything," he says.

"Not French," Harry reminds him.

"Oh yeah," Niall says, perking up and biting into his biscotti.

He takes a drink of coffee afterwards to make up for the lack of dipping.

"It's actually better, you should drop yours in too." Niall suggests, looking up at Harry while his lips are still attached to the rim. It's a cute thing that Harry really wishes he'd stop doing.

Niall watches as Harry drops his biscotti into his coffee with a tiny _plop!_ , much more graceful than Niall's.

He gives him a little cheer and Harry pretends that there's a difference in the flavor as he drinks it just to see Niall proud of himself.

Harry turns hysterical, though, when Niall is finishing his coffee and the remains of the soggy biscotti at the bottom of his mug smacks onto his top lip.

He makes a muffled noise as he leans over and it drops off his face and back into the mug, which is quite disgusting but hilarious looking at the same time. And when Harry's laughs turn into tiny silent snickers, and Niall's face is wiped up, they both lean their heads back on their seats, looking at each other.

"How old are you, anyway?" Niall asks, his eyes regaining some of the peacefulness they had when he was watching the biscotti bake.

"Nineteen," Harry says. "How old are you?"

"Twenty," Niall says, and Harry forces himself to not look surprised. He was thinking seventeen or up.

"Wow," he says anyways, but saves himself. "Your mum looks good."

Niall's color runs deep in his cheeks now.

"She's a looker all right," he says.

"You look a lot like her," Harry says.

"Thank you," Niall replies, now feeling up the handle of his mug on the table.

"Would you like some more, sir?" Harry puts on his waiter voice suddenly, gesturing to the empty plate in the middle of the table.

"Are you tryin' to fatten me up, Harold?" Niall asks, then adds, "it is Harold, right?"

Harry only nods now that his mind is in the gutter with Niall's choice of words.

"Oh," he gets up anyway and runs back into the kitchen.

He comes out with the bundle of foil full of biscotti that he left on the cooling rack.

"Take these home with you," he hands them to Niall. "You'll be able to dip them in the morning."

Niall takes them from him with wide eyes, and Harry continues refusing to believe he's been alive for twenty years.

"Are you always going to send me home with stuff?" Niall asks, placing the foil in his lap. "What am I supposed to give you?"

Harry just looks at him while he thinks of the endless possibilities.

Niall seems to catch on as he stands up and cocks his hip, the foil in one hand at his side now.

"Not on the first date," he says with just the right amount of sass that Harry doesn't actually know whether he's joking or not.

He assumes he's not when Niall picks up his and Harry's mugs, puts them on the plate, and carries them back into the kitchen.

Harry jumps up and follows him.

"I'm a bus boy too," Harry says, snatching the plate out of Niall's hand in one motion.

Niall gasps.

"You do everything,"

Harry sets the dishes down in the sink and turns around to reply, but Niall is right there, face to face, their noses just a movement away from touching.

Harry lets out his breath from the shock, and Niall takes one step back.

"It's better in real life than in the movies," Niall says, his voice suddenly painfully honest.

"I agree," Harry says, relaxing his muscles back against the counter.

"I don’t really know you, but I’d like to." Niall takes another step back, a smile on his face now; nearly a blush. "See you tomorrow," he says, taking two more steps back before turning around and walking through the doorway.

A second later the _ding!_ announces his leave, and Harry stays against the counter in silence for longer than he tries to count.

~

Niall quietly clicks the front door shut behind him and kicks off his icy shoes. He spots the back of his mother's head on the living room couch and goes over to join her.

"Oh, goodness," she startles when he slips down beside her with his arm already around her neck.

He gives her a peck on the cheek.

"Sorry I'm late," he says.

"It's eight pm,"

He raises his eyebrows like it's news to him. It feels like midnight.

"You smell good," she says. "It's not safe carrying that rich of an aroma around with you at this hour of day."

When all he does is smile, she prys.

"Did you kiss him?"

The pink in Niall's cheeks somehow get all the way down to his neck and his shoulders within a millisecond, and she's sure he's about to say yes.

"No,"

His mother grabs his knee and pats it.

"Good. You've got to do the knee kiss first."

"What?" Niall looks at her.

"You sit face to face, you bump his knees, they kiss. See where that leaves you." She says as if it's something everyone is born with knowing. Like the _foot pop_. Or the _bend and snap_. Or maybe Niall should just stop staying home for movie nights.

"But it seems I've raised a hard-to-get playing son," she says. "Should I be proud?"

"Yes," Niall says, proud of himself for a moment, before he drops his head back and looks up at the ceiling. "No," he says. "I wanted to kiss him. Now we'll never be married."

He sighs.

"Oh, Niall," his mother pats his knee again. "There is always another tomorrow."

~

The first thing Niall thinks of when he arrives at his daily pile of snow is ditching it to run into the bakery, and possibly Harry’s arms.

It's funny to think only a day or two ago he thought he was a stalker. Now his admiring is not-so-secret, or Niall is just now paying attention. Harry glances at Niall for hours through the window, so Niall goes on and gives him his show, though maybe he adds a few more swings of the hip on the bridges of songs where it’s absolutely necessary, or not even at all.

At one point Niall catches Harry clapping when he stops to wipe his numb and running nose, and he does a little bow.

Harry now feels it’s okay to visit him on his fifteen minute break.

He brings him some tissue and an incredibly steamy espresso shot and promises not to interfere with his work. He just sits down on the block under the lamp post and freezes with him.

"The perks of knowing you," Niall says as he folds up a used tissue and puts it in his coat pocket. "Free coffee," Niall lifts his steaming shot, "warmth, health, and a nice view."

"Oh, are we doing this?" Harry rubs his hands together, nose red, mouth smiling. "The perks of knowing you; good music, a nice view," he tips his head at Niall, agreeing. "A reason to really enjoy this weather. Merry Christmas. I like you."

Niall shovels a pile of snow onto the mound he's been working on, and he looks up at Harry, his eyes suddenly such a crystal clear blue with the color of the town around him, and the colors on his skin. Almost like an Alpine water scene that just turns out to be a commercial for allergy medicine or contacts.

"I like you," he says back, and they share a moment that couldn't end sooner.

Niall breaks out into a song that Harry's never heard before, but it sounds lovelier than his French and makes him want to do a _Singing In The Rain_ on the lamp post he's leaning back against.

By the time Harry's break is over Niall has completed six songs, three of which Harry knew and joined in on.

He stands up and takes Niall's empty shot cup sticking out the top of the mound of snow.

Before he can say anything, one of the women working in the bakery walks out, throwing a scarf around her neck as she calls over to Harry.

"Harry, I can't lift a tree by myself!" She says. She has to be around fifty.

Harry nods at her and waves his hand before turning back to Niall.

"Right, we're putting a tree up tonight. Do you want to help decorate it?" Harry asks.

Niall thinks about all the plans he doesn't have.

"Yes," he says, showing his teeth.

Harry lets his excitement linger between them before he turns around and runs off towards wherever the woman went. Meanwhile Niall thinks of ways he can incorporate knee kissing and tree decorating into the same setting.

~

Not twenty minutes later does Harry walk back down the sidewalk with a short, thick tree on his shoulder and the woman tailing behind him—though Niall doesn't finish the section until he's already placed the tree in its stand by the back wall and locked it in.

Niall makes his way over to the bakery and walks in despite the closed sign on the door.

Harry turns around as soon as the _ding!_ sounds and walks towards Niall with a big happy grin on his face.

"What do you think?" He asks, turning back around to face the tree with Niall and subtly resting his hand on his lower back.

"It’s perfect for this place," Niall says, very much noticing his hand. "I like it. Good pick, Harry."

Harry continues to grin, looking at Niall again.

"Harry, is this the fella?" An older woman says to their right, sitting in a chair. Niall recognizes her as the cashier from the other day.

"Hi," Niall leans over to shake her hand. "Niall,"

She smiles at him for a long moment before looking between him and Harry.

"I'd stay after hours, too, if it meant the favor of a handsome man like you," she says, matter of fact.

Niall can tell Harry's embarrassed, so he leans back into his hand. Niall thinks it almost like meeting his family for the first time.

"Harry is pretty much all of our adopted grandson," the woman continues. "All is well."

"Thank you," Niall says, relieved to know that nobody was getting in trouble. And Harry doesn't seem to mind anyway. It’s almost like he owns the place, so maybe this is like meeting his family.

"This is fun," Niall says to Harry as they pass each other colored Christmas lights, Harry on one side of the tree and Niall on the other.

"You're going to be the only thing they talk about for a week straight after this," Harry says, passing the string to Niall to place on his side.

"I've always strived to be that popular," Niall says, shaking the tree a little bit as he neatly places them inside. He hands them around to Harry and bends down to look at him through the branches. "They're really nice," he says, thinking about his own grandmother.

Harry squats and looks around the trunk at Niall.

"Feel free to use all the Irishisms you want," he says. "They'll go mad, I promise."

Niall wraps his side of the tree for the last time, then hands them back to Harry to plug into the wall.

They both straighten up and back away, looking at the lights.

"Ohh!" One of the women notice, and then they're all looking at the tree.

Harry lifts a medium sized box off the floor and onto the closest table, unfolding it to reveal intensely glittered ornaments.

" _Muy bonita_ ," Niall says and blows a kiss to the tree.

Harry whips around to look at him like he just said the most offensive thing in the world.

"What did you say?" He asks with big eyes and a frown.

"Very pretty," Niall says, "very nice."

Harry tosses the ornament he had in his hand at Niall, one of the women gasp, and Niall catches it. Unbelieveable.

~

It's dark when they're finished decorating. The tree is lit up beautifully, making the ornaments covering it shine even more.

Niall plops down in one of the booths, and a woman by the name of Mary brings in a tray of hot chocolate.

 _The perks of knowing yoooou_ , Niall sings in his head, looking at Harry string up some lights above the entrance door. He sips his hot chocolate and watches him silently.

"How's that?" Harry asks after some time, stepping off a small stool he didn't really need.

Niall opens his mouth but Harry turns around, his finger in the air, and Niall drinks his cocoa.

Two of the women sit down with Niall and make conversation, but as soon as Harry comes around to the table they excuse themselves, leaving them together.

"This reminds me of when we met," Niall says, his hands around his mug on the table.

"Just a couple days ago," Harry says, "and you barely spoke."

"That's because I was thinkin’ you were a stalker," Niall laughs playfully. "I was thinking, _thank god he's turned out to be quite handsome_."

"You were not," Harry pulls the first squinty smile Niall has seen.

"I was," he says.

Harry horribly wants to reach across the table to Niall's hands.

"I'd only just seen you the day before that," he says. "I thought I better come up with some excuse to go out there to you. Maybe say you looked cold, pull a Hansel and Gretel sort of thing and lure you with treats. Turns out you did look cold and I didn't have to leave bread crumbs,"

"I was cold! It's bloody freezing out there, I'd take hot chocolate from a man in a white van if I had to," Niall says, ending the sentence with an up of his eyebrow and a shrug from his shoulder.

"You sure about that, Hansel?"

"Yes, ya witch."

Niall slides his chocolate over to Harry, indicating that he can have some.

Harry doesn't miss his opportunity, though he drinks from the other side of the cup so Niall doesn't give him anything else to tease about. And as soon as he's put the drink back down he remembers something.

"Can I have your number?" He asks, sliding the mug back over to Niall, though he pushes it back towards him.

Somehow Niall mixes actions over words with words over actions with everything he does.

"Sure," Niall says, just as Harry is coming to the conclusion that Niall might be the most perfect balance to life.

Niall holds out his hand when Harry pulls out his phone, so he gives it to him.

Harry can only sit back and watch as Niall unlocks his screen with a slide of his thumb, and as his face illuminates brighter and darker with each thing he presses. He brings his right thumb up as well when he taps in his number and writes his name.

He takes a little longer than necessary and his face doesn't change the whole time; a bit concentrated, like how he looks when he bakes.

He finally hands it back to Harry, and Harry takes it to see the name " _Nialler_ " with these exact emoticons following afterwards:

 

"I just learned a lot about you, _Nialler_." Harry says.

"I downsized on it a bit," Niall replies.

Harry would really like to know what other ones he had up there.

He goes over his number, unconsciously smiling at it. Underneath his name he wrote " _Niall_ " as the nickname, so Harry would know _for sure_ he's looking at the right Niall. Good thing.

"So who's that on your lock screen?" Niall leans forward to point at his phone.

"My sister," Harry says, turning the phone around to show Niall the picture of her and him so Niall can re-see it without the jealousy.

"Good lookin' family," Niall says, leaning back and folding his arms.

He also decides to take this opportunity to try and knee kiss Harry while he's on his phone, so he sinks down in his seat, just a little bit.

Harry doesn't notice, so he sinks just a bit further.

Harry takes a drink from Niall's unfinished cocoa, and Niall gets one more sink in before Harry puts his phone away.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Harry asks, looking up at Niall. Hopefully it just looks like a comfortable slouch.

"Goin' home," Niall says, trying to move his knees forward without sinking even more, but he can't find Harry's. "Going to Ireland,"

And Harry really looks disappointed.

"When are you going?"

Niall tightens his arms as he inconspicuously shifts in his seat, sinking ever possibly lower.

"About a week," Niall says, and _VIOLA!_

Harry's expression doesn't change instantly, but a flash of recognition comes across his face and leaves a little smirk on his face.

Niall's cheeks hotten, and though he suddenly feels embarrassed, he doesn't move. He lets their knees kiss underneath the table to subtly let Harry know he did it on purpose.

Harry means to ask something else, but all he's doing now is letting his face display a goofy smile for _sly-arms-folded_ -niall grinning at his successful reaction.

The woman named Mary stands by the table, but neither of them notice until she puts a hand on Harry's shoulder and they have to break eye contact.

"I'll lock up tonight, so you can go on ahead." She says, looking to him and then at Niall, being nice and obvious.

"Alright," Harry says, standing to give her a hug. "Thanks,"

Niall stands too, then, and walks towards the front door.

"Thank you," he says loud enough for the whole bakery—which actually only contains five people including Harry—and puts his arm above his head in a big wave.

They all turn and wave goodbye as Harry joins him by the door and pushes it open. Harry holds it for him as he says another set of _bye_ 's after his nice response of _farewell_ ’s, _nice to meet you_ 's, and some _safe walk home_ 's.

Harry immediately starts shivering in his trench coat once they're walking down the sidewalk and puts his hands underneath his armpits.

"Where do you live?" He asks.

"Like three blocks away," Niall says.

Harry would think he's not even cold at all, but his nose is already bright red and his lips are blue, and he wants nothing more than to kiss him at this moment.

 _I know the perfect solution for this,_ Harry thinks of saying before he would grab his face and lay one on him.

Yet he doesn't. All he does is pull his collar up.

"You never did invest in those gloves, did you?" He says, joking, because Niall is breathing into his bare hands now.

"Well apparently neither did you ya hypocrite," Niall says, looking at Harry's also bare hands.

But he spoke too soon, because Harry is pulling out a set of them from his coat pocket.

Niall stops walking when Harry does, and Harry opens the bottom of one glove up to Niall for him to slip his hand in, and then the other.

Niall thinks of how spoiled he is when Harry continues walking with his hand slipped underneath Niall's jacket and around his waist, holding him close and warm.

It takes them twenty minutes to get to Niall's house, trudging through snow and admiring Christmas lights as they pass by houses. And the silence is incredible.

Harry realizes Niall is also a really good person to just breathe with.

He walks Niall all the way up to his doormat, transitioning from Niall's waist to his hand, since suddenly breaking contact from him has become a fear.

And he could possibly freeze to death.

"Thank you," Niall says as Harry backs away slowly, bringing Niall's arm with him. "Are you okay going home? Are you far?"

"Oh no, no," Harry shakes his head and doesn't mention that he lives in the opposite direction.

"I'll see you later, then." Niall tightens his hand in Harry's.

They just smile at each other for a few wonderful moments before Harry makes himself let go of Niall's hand.

Niall backs up to the door, gives Harry one last smile—not knowing how big or small since his face is numb yet again—and lets himself inside.

He peeks out the window a second later to watch Harry walk away with his head down and his hands in his pockets.

Niall sighs.

~

The next day Harry isn't working, but Niall receives a text in the morning that reads ' _It's my weekend, don't freeze :(_ '.

Niall replies with a simple ' _ok :(_ '.

At 2 o'clock he builds a snowman and sends a picture to Harry, saying ' _couldn't do it_ '.

Niall laughs at his own joke.

~

At the end of the second day of Harry's work weekend Niall goes into the bakery for coffee anyways.

A younger woman who he hasn't met is working (he thought they were all old), and she gives him a bigger sized cup than he asked for.

He opens his mouth to say something, but she scrunches her nose and insists he takes it.

Niall walks out with his large, knowing that Harry wasn't exaggerating when he said they'll all talk.

~

Harry comes outside as soon as Niall walks up the next day, surprised to have something handed to him.

"Hang with me at your break again," Niall says, giving him a smile and walking off to fetch his snow shovel from a closeby alley shed.

Harry opens the foil to find three pieces of chocolate biscotti.

He closes it, looking up to watch Niall walk away.

He sighs.

~

During Harry's break he stands by Niall to talk to him. Or to just be closer.

"Are these still good?" Harry asks, holding up one of the biscotti and looking at it.

Niall stops after a shovel and takes one from the foil in Harry's hand, bites it, then pauses.

"Yep," he says, then continues chewing.

Niall also gets really intense while shovelling, too, Harry notices. His frown set deeper than ever, almost like he's trying to make a really hard decision in his head.

Harry brings up the snowman picture and asks to check if he has frostbite while Niall laughs and swats him away.

"So when are you coming back from Ireland?" Harry decides to ask before he has to go back inside.

"After New Years," Niall says, shovelling a rather large mound of snow with a grunt. "January second,"

Harry sighs again.

It was easy not being around Niall when he didn't know he existed, but now that he does, how could someone possibly manage two weeks when two days was hard enough?

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Niall asks, breaking Harry's depressing thoughts.

"Baking here," Harry points his thumb back to the bakery, "then going back to eat all my family's food. Probably go around and sing carols to all your neighbors so they stop crying at your absence."

Niall sticks his shovel in the snow by his feet and looks at Harry like he's just got down on his knees to kiss his hand.

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, so Harry just smiles at him. Especially at his gloves still on his hands and the snow on his shoulders.

Niall notices Harry's eyes.

"Oh!" He says, attempting to pull one glove off by the finger.

"Oh no," Harry waves his hand like he's calling a shot. "Keep them. Take them to Ireland."

Niall looks up at Harry with one finger lose and a look on his face that suggests he thinks Harry is the best person in the world.

Gloves are a small sacrifice for that face, and Harry is willing to give more.

"Thank you," Niall says quite softly as he pulls the glove back down.

He lifts his shovel and continues his work, flashing Harry a sweet little smile after the first scoop of snow.

A few minutes later Harry has to leave, and he points his finger at Niall when he tells him to come in when the concrete is clear. Niall gives him a teethy smile and a thumbs up.

From the window in the bakery Harry can see Niall humming, and he wishes he was inside and warm with him. Especially when he's rolling cookie dough by himself.

He catches him speaking to a man in a suit some hours later, who looks like he's just gotten off from work and has something to say to the cold blonde boy paving the way for everyone. Niall laughs and Harry nearly forgets he's supposed to be giving change back to a woman who payed for a loaf of bread with fifty pounds.

Thankfully Niall gets finished early since there was less snow last night, and he comes in and waits for Harry to get off work.

"Sorry," Harry apologizes when he finally does an hour later.

Niall has already bought and finished two croissants and is leaning back with his legs filling up the booth seat while he goes about on his phone.

"It's alright," he says, putting his phone down as Harry sits at the chair across the table. "I like to chill,"

Harry unties his apron from behind and folds it on the table before sitting back.

Niall swings his legs to the floor and leans forward.

"Do you have Skype?" He asks, his hands clasped together.

Harry gives him a side look.

"I do," he forms a grin.

"Cool," Niall leans back again, crossing his arms. "I was thinking maybe we should Skype while I'm gone." The color of his cheeks turn a brighter hue for an instant. "I want to. Do you want to?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "Yes. I want to Skype you."

Niall smiles a big version of the sweet smile he gave him earlier. He scoots to his left then, and looks at Harry expectantly.

Harry gets up and sits back down beside Niall, who immediately leans into him.

Niall's right knee bumps Harry's left by accident, and Harry shuffles his foot over until it's side by side to Niall's until that's as close as they can get.

~

The day Niall leaves is just as sad as Harry expected it'd be.

Niall texted him a few sweet messages the night before his early morning flight, and Harry woke up sighing, then smiling, and sighing again.

_1:03 AM - before I sleep! Ill miss you!_

_1:03 AM - I miss u right now !_

_1:13 AM - dont make coffee for anyone_

It isn't until night time a day later that he hears from him again.

_9:50 PM - Skype????????_

_9:51 PM - hurry_

Harry ditches his dinner and bolts into his bedroom.

It takes five minutes to start up his computer and open Skype, and another five to add Niall and wait for his camera to load.

Finally he sees his face, his hair down and rather flippy at the ends. He's in a grey sweatshirt and Harry's stomach twists at how comfortable he looks, all clean and cozy. It's suddenly painfully hard to imagine him in person again, even though it's only been two days. He's never had him unreachable until now.

"Aaaay, Styles," Niall says, smiling at Harry on his screen. "Cool last name,"

Harry decides Niall looks just as cute looking at his computer screen as he does his phone. Another twist in the stomach.

"I've got all your info, right here," Niall says, and Harry hears his mouse click. He watches him read the few lines he's got on his profile, just his name and number and a song quote for his status.

Niall bobs his head to nothing in particular.

"So what does the _j_ and _h_ stand for?" Harry asks, looking at Niall's Skype name, which is a beautiful rendition of his name as _niallinatorjh93_.

"James Horan," Niall says, looking directly into the camera for a second and causing Harry minor heart problems. "Now you know it all,"

"Oh, the things I can do with this information," Harry says, trying to sound like a villian. But he fails, and Niall laughs.

"Do ya wanna meet one of me cousins?" Niall asks, and when Harry nods, Niall calls a name loud enough to be heard through his closed door.

A guy somewhere around Niall's age peeks in and Niall waves him over.

He introduces them, making sure not to title Harry as anything by just saying " _this is Harry_ " and his cousin already knows the rest.

Niall somehow praises the both of them at the same time, telling Harry how great he is and telling his cousin how great Harry is. He makes a few jokes and they all laugh before Niall slaps his bum and tells him to get out.

After that, Harry migrates to his bed and it's all smooth sailing from there. They talk until their words turn to yawns and Harry finally gets to witness a very sleepy Niall.

He spins his chair in small back and forth motions while he watches Harry on his screen with eyes nearly shut. It's almost unbelievable he's looking at Harry, and that Harry gets to watch it happen without him even being there in front of him.

"I can't wait for you to get back," Harry says, feeling gloomy and restless at the same time.

Niall shuts his eyes and nods twice in agreement. It's apparent he foreces himself to move when he leans forward then.

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" He says, his voice sending Harry into an even deeper longing.

"Okay. Goodnight," Harry says, and Niall stands up, bends forward, and kisses the camera.

Then all he's left with is the most depressing page he's ever seen.

 

~

Harry wakes up sad, goes to work sad, and nobody talks about Niall. He gets rubs on his shoulders with sympathetic faces and keeps his head down.

_Twelve more days._

Harry makes sure to give all the coffee orders to Mary.

~

"I'm- so- _fuuuuuuuuull_ ," is the first thing Harry hears from Niall that night.

He's reclined in his spinning chair, his hand underneath a new sweatshirt and on his stomach.

Despite his words his body is still as tiny as usual. Harry realizes it's the most he's seen of it since they're always so bundled up.

"It's not even Christmas dinner yet," Harry laughs.

All Niall does is groan.

"Yeah but me 'n my family..." he starts, "all I did was sit on the couch. It was great. How was work?"

Harry just shrugs and Niall is too full to notice it.

He excuses himself and returns five minutes later with a cup of peppermint tea.

"Sorry," he says as he sits back down. "Okay. How was work again?"

Harry shrugs a second time.

"A bit lonely. I think a snowplow has taken your job."

Niall gasps and Harry isn't sure whether it's sincere or not.

"Son of a," Niall says under his breath, and Harry knows to laugh now. "It's temporary, those cost a lot of gas. I'll be back doin' all the man labor in no time." He reassures him, and Harry really can't wait.

"Hey, when I get back, do you wanna see a movie?" Niall asks like he's coming home this very night.

"Yeah, of course," Harry says before realizing Niall just officially asked him out whether he knew it or not.

"Cool," Niall says, and clicks something on his computer. "We can do a double feature and not watch the second one."

It takes Harry several seconds to process what Niall meant by that, but he said it so casually Harry just freezes for a moment. Yet another sly one.

"Hurry _up_ then," Harry leans back in his chair and elongates _up_ in a low whine.

That brings Niall's attention back up to look into the camera, staring right at Harry without seeing him. He knows what he's doing, only looking into the lense, except his expression is so hard to tell when he's just looking and Harry doesn't know what to do about it.

So he just huffs.

And Niall is getting a bit brave tonight.

"Don't get all-" he over exaggerates Harry's whining, "-with me. What do you want me to do?"

"You can start by not looking into the lense and maybe not be cute and really hot," Harry says it before he can think it over.

But Niall's reaction is even worse.

He looks right into the lense again, the same kind of hard-to-tell face, until suddenly he slowly squints, lifting his chin a little so he's sort of peering down at Harry, and Harry is silent.

Then Niall leans back, chuckling to himself and, _being a little shit,_ Harry thinks.

"You know what," Harry starts.

"What?" Niall says, still smiling, hunched over with his hand on his mouse again.

"Two can play this game," Harry says, running his hand through his hair, shaking his head and letting it all come down until he's just a mane of curls.

Niall is silent looking at his computer screen. He leans back in his seat.

"Didn't work," he says, still with that same smirk. "It takes more for me."

He's playing.

Okay.

Harry stands up and pulls his t-shirt off, flexes like he's the example for a workout video, kisses his bicep, then sits back down.

"Holy shit," Niall leans forward, staring at his screen. "You're all tatted up, what the hell,"

"That's what happens," Harry pulls his shirt back over his head. "You play the game, you get a prize. But you can't have this," Harry pats his chest and Niall leans back again.

"Game over, I lose." Niall says, defeated. "So what now? Are you gonna give me a tour of your house?"

"No," Harry says. "That's something that needs to be done in person."

"Ohh," Niall says with a twinkle in his eye. "Are you asking me to come home with you?"

Harry smiles and shrugs and lets Niall go wild with the thought.

~

The next few days are a little better. They don't Skype since Niall is out and about, but he's texting him constantly and sending him pictures, some of them with little to no explanations. Like Harry’s supposed to know if the street sign's name is funny or if it's just Irish, but it's taken at a stop light and it's raining and it looks quite lovely and Harry thinks maybe that's why he sent it to him. He's saying I miss you through pictures of things that are making him think of Harry, and that's better than a three worded text.

It's confirmed then that Niall is a romantic.

On Christmas Eve morning Niall calls Harry with a hangover.

"Did I wake you up?" Niall asks, his voice completely and utterly thick with grogginess.

"No, I'm having a wee." Harry says.

"Why have you got your phone on you when you're havin' a wee?" Niall asks the most honest question of the morning.

"For this very reason." Harry replies. "I very much like your raspy voice."

Niall moans and Harry shudders.

"I've barely opened my eyes yet," Niall says eventually. "Just to dial you. What's the time?"

"It's nine thirty," Harry says, walking into the kitchen. "Merry Christmas,"

"Merry Christmas!" Niall says, suddenly very very excited. "I bought you a gift, I want to give it to you right now."

And by the way he says it it could be an entirely different context, but Harry knows he's too tired to realize that right now.

"What is it?" Harry asks as he pours himself some cereal.

"Shhhhh _hhhh_ ," Niall shushes him, ending it as if it were just a long draw of breath.

_Nine days to go._

And Harry has never despised Ireland more.

~

Niall texts Harry Christmas day.

_1 PM - Im drinking hot chocolate, wish u made it_

It's a punch in the gut he's never going to get used to.

Harry replies with a sad face, saying he'll call him tonight.

And he does, at his mum's house after the dishes, he escapes outside for ' _some air_ ', which everyone translated to ' _Some Niall_ ' anyways.

"Helloooooo," Niall answers, following with a sort of giggling laugh.

"Merry Christmas!" Harry says, throwing his arm up even though Niall can't see him.

"Ho ho ho!" Niall replies, giggling again. Suddenly all the background noise ceases and Harry knows he's gone outside as well by the way he suddenly sucks in his breath.

"Cold tonight, isn't it?" Harry asks.

Niall's breath shakes as his chest hitches.

"Freezin'," he says, and Harry can hear him trying to warm himself up.

Harry walks down the front steps and looks out into the darkness. The street lights look exceptionally dimmer compared to inside the house. He turns around to sit on a step when Niall hears his reaction on the other line.

"What?" He asks.

"There's mistletoe here," Harry says, sitting beneath it.

Niall makes kissing noises until Harry laughs and tells him to shut up.

"Would you kiss me right now, Harry?" Niall asks, wanting an honest answer.

Harry stops to think about how he should answer, but then realizes he doesn't need to at this point.

"I would, yes." He says, and he hears Niall sigh.

Harry is painfully desperate for him once again.

~

After Christmas Harry and Niall call each other every day. Goodmorning texts and goodnight calls. It's temporarily become a long distance relationship, and Harry sincerely prays for all the people who have gone through this.

On New Years Eve they Skype the countdown, both in the living room with their families. Niall kisses the camera when the ball drops.

_Two more days._

~

"Okay, I'm not allowed to have my phone on but I'm here," Niall calls Harry on January second, starting the play-by-play he promised him the night before.

Harry yells into the phone and slips through the living room with his socks on.

"They won't let me off yet," Niall's whispering now, and Harry can tell whenever a flight attendant walks by.

"I'm putting on my boots, do you have work? I have work, I wonder if I can cancel," Harry struggles with his boots.

"Not until tomorrow," Niall says, louder this time and with a lot of background noise as he pulls his suitcase from the top compartment while everyone else shuffles out. "I'll come to work with you, _please please please_ I'm a good cook, I can wait tables, convince them to let me do someone's job for free." Niall practically ends in a plead.

There's a gust of wind on his end and then he's walking through the terminal. He makes a comment to his mother beside him.

"It doesn't matter, you'll stay all day, they won't kick you out."

"Yes!" Niall jumps in victory.

Harry can hear him rushing his mother to the car.

"Hold your tiny horse," she says.

And it's a dream. It's a dream it's a dream it's a dream. Harry is going to run to Niall like the beginning scene in Shrek 2, and he'll pick him up. He'll definitely pick him up.

Niall names off every street name they pass as he's driven to the bakery.

" _NO- STOPS_." He had directed his mother as soon as she turned on the ignition. So far the only stops they've made are for red lights and stop signs, with which Niall passed those waiting moments moaning and groaning and chanting ' _go go go c'mon_ '.

And then.

"One more turn," Niall says with a rising voice, his stomach suddenly dropping out of his body.

Harry pants outside the bakery. He doesn't even notice he's freezing, he's just looking for Niall in every car that passes.

He doesn't even have time to catch him when a car comes up and the passenger door is swung open, and here comes Niall. _Niall._

Harry catches him when Niall springs two feet into the air and lands with his arms around Harry's neck, his feet dangling until Harry puts him down as they laugh with joy. They look at each other for a moment, their eyes full blown, smiles full force, chests heaving, and Harry lifts Niall again to spin him.

When his feet are underneath him again, Niall turns around and waves his mother off, smiling his biggest as she drives away.

Back to Harry.

Harry hasn't taken his eyes off him. His arms are around Niall's waist and Niall closes his eyes, tilts his head, and meets Harry in a kiss.

Harry inhales deeply, pulling Niall towards himself, and Niall brings his hands to Harry's sides, touching his hips.

Harry pulls back just as Niall runs out of breath from forgetting to breathe, and they just hold each other, smoke billowing around their heads from their breath combined.

Niall sighs a happy sigh and they finally go inside, where everyone does an award winning job at pretending they didn't see anything.

~

Niall waits Harry's entire shift.

With not being allowed to do anything but sit there and pucker his lips at Harry whenever he passes by, he soon grows restless, and Harry fixes him up some pancakes.

"It's out of my paycheck," Harry whispers in Niall's ear as he sets the plate down in front of him from behind.

Niall leaves a five dollar tip anyway.

It almost feels like he's been let out of school when it's early evening and Harry grabs his coat.

"Let's go," he pulls Niall's arm, his eagerness ready to pop like a paintball and splatter the town with colors.

"To the movies?" Niall asks as he's pulled through the door.

"Double feature," Harry smiles to himself, and Niall does too.

~

The movie theatre is more crowded than usual, especially for a Thursday night. But even so, Harry and Niall only have to share a row with two people, who are—thankfully—both seated at either ends.

The first movie is a bit slow. Niall's hand inches its way to Harry's arm by the time they're twenty minutes into it, and a small smile creeps onto Harry's face.

Still, they watch the movie and end up getting fully immersed in it ten minutes later with their fingers interlocked.

Niall puts his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him and Harry's attention is drawn away for a moment, just to look at his white shoes shining in the darkness.

He has a sudden urge to pull them off.

Something in the movie makes Niall tighten his grip and Harry brings his attention back to the screen, running his thumb lightly over Niall's index finger.

Harry's got teary eyes towards the ending and he's positive he hears a sniff from Niall, but as soon as the credits roll Niall looks at him with something mischievous in his eyes.

_Double feature._

They sneak into something loud. Lots of action, a flashing screen. No attention drawn to the two guys down in the very front row. They've got two other rows of seats and a large platform between them and the other eighteen people in the theatre, who have—by luck—3D glasses on.

Niall tries to use his time wisely, but he spends a lot of it trying to move the seat armrest, which, by the fiftieth tug up, he concludes doesn't budge like he remembers.

He turns in his seat then, so that his legs are bent over the armrest, and puts his hands on either sides of Harry's face, pulling him down over him.

"Why does this feel so fun?" He asks when Harry's top lip is hovering just over his nose.

Harry turns his head so that Niall's mouth is on his ear, and Niall repeats his question.

"I don't know," Harry says back in Niall's ear, a harsh whisper and an honest answer.

Niall chuckles and brings Harry's face down to kiss his lips just as the crowd laughs in unison, and Niall has to keep his hands firm on Harry's face when he tries to see what caused it. He doesn't let anything break Harry from his mouth.

Except, of course, the lights brightening back up.

And it feels okay, because they've made out for forty-five minutes.

Niall grabs Harry's biceps and tries to gently roll him onto the floor instead of standing up, but Harry's knees land on the ground with a _thud_ that thankfully can't be heard over the ending music, only felt in Niall's seat.

He giggles as Harry hunches over and pulls him up, and he wraps himself around Harry's chest when he realizes that his legs and feet are both asleep.

Harry half-carries Niall as he stumbles beside him, wincing as his body fills with sudden painful tingles.

They manage to merge between two couples, and if an employee recognized them from earlier, they were far too tired to care at this point in their shift.

"What bad employees," Harry whispers in Niall's ear as they head towards a side door. "They should lock us up,"

Niall's hand on the other side of Harry's waist tightens.

"Shut up," he says.

~

The back of Niall's head hits his front door, and he's never been more thankful there's no car in the driveway.

"So what does this mean?" He asks, his chin up, looking down at Harry.

He's got the same eyes as the first night they Skyped, and now Harry's got him pinned to the door.

"I can come inside?" Harry suggests, his hands on either side of Niall's head.

Niall puts his hand behind himself and on the doorknob before leaning his head forward to catch Harry's lips in a long, hard, deep kiss. And then he twists it.

"Not on the second date," he says, giving Harry the face. The one that says " _beg for it_ ", and Harry is left looking at his white front door.

~

Harry keeps looking over through the window, expecting to see Niall walk up with a shovel in hand and begin to haul snow.

He misses the _ding!_ , and it takes him more than a second to notice someone standing in front of the counter he's behind.

It's Niall.

"Good afternoon," he says, and leans over to kiss Harry's surprised face. "I wanted to at least acknowledge you before you started watching me."

Harry can't help the rise of his body temperature.

Maybe something's burning.

Niall puts a plastic container down on the counter and slides it to Harry.

"See you at break," he smiles before turning around and walking out.

Harry watches him pass the window on his way to get his shovel, and Niall gives him a happy wave.

Inside the container is lukewarm alphabet soup of only the letters _h_ and _n_.

Harry heats it up before his break, and the steam that emerges from it the moment he walks outside is what he feels inside when Niall twists around to look at him.

It must've taken him hours and several cans of soup to get the container full, but Niall doesn't mention it. He only smiles and shares it with Harry, and Harry knows he's proud of it.

"Come inside later when I lock up?" Harry asks as he spoons a pile of _hhhhnnnh_ ’s into Niall's mouth.

Niall chews and nods.

~

At five thirty Niall plops down just inside the door of the bakery and pulls off his snow bidden shoes, his legs outside and lifted up when his boots are off to keep his socks from touching the snow.

" _Ahh_ ," Niall sighs when he gets to his feet inside and lets the door close all the way. "It always smells so good here," He takes the broom from Harry's hand mid-sweep. "I'd clean my room if it always smelt like this."

"What _does_ your room smell like?" Harry asks, leaning back and letting him sweep.

"It smells like shoes and none of your business,"

Niall sweeps for ten more seconds before he feels Harry come up behind him, hands on his waist.

"Sit down," he says over his shoulder, and Niall stops.

He takes a seat in his usual spot and smells the candle on the table while Harry disappears into the back, but he comes out not a minute later with two plates on top of a glass bowl and places them on the table.

Niall perks up at the sight of fettuccine.

"And you just whip this up?" He asks.

"I made it at home," Harry says, and that's even better.

"How about we use this candle to its full purpose?" Niall suggests, though he's already moving things around.

He pours the pasta onto one plate and leaves the other one off to the side with the bowl, as well as the second fork.

Strike three for romantic Niall.

He twirls the noodles around one fork and holds it over the plate for Harry to lean over and bite—which he happily does.

Niall feeds himself the second bite while Harry chews his.

" _Mmmmm_ , good job, Harry." Niall says after he's swallowed most of it.

Harry bows his head and eagerly takes the fork from Niall.

"Are we going dog style with this?" Harry asks, "you know, that movie..."

Niall's eyebrows raise.

"Lady and The Tramp?" He laughs, shaking his head, not needing to point it out since Harry's even caught himself.

They do it human style, though. Harry feeds Niall and Niall would feed Harry, if Harry let him. But it's ' _his food and he makes up the rules_ '.

He wastes no time afterwards, too. He leans back, crossing his arms, and eyes a space above Niall's head.

Niall's eyes flick up to the ceiling as he drinks from his glass of water.

A mistletoe.

Niall puts down his glass and raises his eyebrows at Harry.

"You wanna come over here?"

"I've got the booth," Harry says.

"I've got the lips," Niall smirks back, and Harry gets up, goes around the table, and slides into Niall's lap.

"Seems you do," he says on Niall's mouth before kissing him.

Niall snakes his arms around Harry's waist to hold him close, but the more heated it gets the more Harry cramps.

"Booth," he breathes on Niall's lips, and Niall nods breathlessly.

Harry gets up then and pulls Niall down in the booth on top of him, so he’s lying between his legs.

"Mm, okay," Niall grins before kissing Harry again.

It takes Harry several minutes to finally get the courage to run his hand underneath Niall's shirt.

His side is warm and his skin is smoother than he thought it'd be. And despite the meal they just ate he can feel his ribs.

Harry feels something else after that. Niall's body pushes harder onto Harry's and his kisses get deeper; Niall's breathing comes faster.

He brings his other hand to the side of Niall's face, runs his palm over his ear and into his side hair, which is shorter than the top. Then he rolls them over.

Niall's head bangs on the table on the way down. They land between the booth and the pole in the center of the table. Harry's knees throb on either side of Niall but Niall is wincing in pain.

"Ow," Niall says as Harry goes through one apology after the other. He heard the thump of Niall's back against the floor and that even hurt him.

It's darker under the table, but the Christmas lights make it somehow comfortable still. Harry bends lower and kisses Niall to try and take his mind away from his aching body, trying to make up for it.

Niall eventually exhales through his nose and Harry feels him slowly start to relax underneath him.

Niall brings his right leg up and wraps it over Harry's back when he sneaks his hand under Niall's shirt again.

Harry has been trying to avoid grinding his hard-on onto Niall's, but now it's inevitable, and suddenly Niall stops kissing.

"D'ya think? Can they see us?" He asks, looking out into the bakery.

Harry looks over as well.

"Who? Where?"

"The cameras, are they recording?"

Harry remembers the security cameras they've got on the walls. Smart boy.

"Maybe... Only our legs," Harry says, looking back at Niall, and Niall tries to shift upwards but his head is already pressed against the back of another booth.

Harry bites his lower lip as he quickly considers suggesting an option.

"My house?" He asks, and Niall's eyes flick to him.

Harry leans down and kisses Niall, then speaks without parting their lips.

"Niall, come home with me."

Niall shivers.

"Okay,"

~

There are absolutely no cars out tonight, so Harry calls his sister for a ride.

"You think we can't walk twenty minutes?" Niall asks as soon as he gets off the phone. "I can take it."

"It's downtown, and it's ten below right now, Niall. It'll take longer in this snow, too." Harry says, teeth chattering as he grabs Niall and wraps him in his arms to warm him even though he doesn't act like he needs it. His face is already pale and not to mention his nose is completely red.

"So how do you usually get home?" Niall asks in Harry's warmth.

"It depends," Harry says in Niall's hair. "Sometimes I walk, sometimes I get a ride, sometimes I take a cab. I'm saving up to buy a car, though."

"Oh, a boyfriend with a car." Niall says, and then Harry feels him catch himself. He's quiet before he shifts just enough to look back at Harry. "You wanna be my boyfriend?"

And his face is everything. It's everything and then it's simple. He's looking for confirmation. Like maybe if Harry said no he wouldn't go home with him, he maybe wouldn't even kiss him anymore.

But Harry doesn't need to base his answer on that look.

"Yeah," Harry smiles at him. "Yeah."

Then Niall turns back around with a sweet, happy smile on his face.

Harry's sister pulls up in a little car and they both run and jump in.

It's extremely warm, and they both sigh in unison.

"You guys are dorks," Harry's sister says. "Hi Niall."

Harry turns in his seat once they're driving through tall buildings, and he bends his legs over Niall so that his feet are on the other side of him.

It's quiet the whole way, so Harry whispers things in Niall's ear.

He notices that the jumper Niall is wearing is the one he gave to him the first day at the bakery, and he runs his hand down the front of it.

Niall gives him a nudge and a little smile.

It's a good thing they get to Harry's place within ten minutes because it's become too toasty in all their clothes with the heater on full blast.

They all run quickly into the lobby—especially Harry's sister, who's apparently just thrown clothes on for the single trip—and close themselves in the elevator.

They're brought up six floors before it stops and lets them out into a long hallway.

Harry took Niall's hand the minute they left the car and still hasn't let go of it as they walk behind his sister to their door. All the lights are still on inside, and his sister takes her coat off to reveal her pajamas underneath.

She swaps her snow boots for some extremely fuzzy house slippers.

Harry catches her before she goes into what Niall assumes is her bedroom—which is flashing because she's left her tv on—and whispers something into her ear.

She rolls her eyes, nods, and tells Niall goodnight after he's said _thank you_ , then closes the door behind her.

So then Niall is lead into the living room.

It's open and artsy looking with walls of large windows outlooking the thousands of city lights. It's overwhelmingly beautiful combined with the Christmas tree and every light that's strung on the wall. Every way Niall turns there are lights, and he must be somewhere special.

Beside the entertainment center in front of the windows is a large, square grey rug, which Niall could probably run his hand up and down for hours.

Harry pulls him over towards it and holds his back as he lies him down on top of it. It seems Harry brings the coziness wherever he goes, since this feels like a home version of the bakery to Niall. Or maybe it's just Harry.

They look at each other, Harry down at Niall, crouching over him, and Niall up at Harry, pinned against the rug.

"What did you tell your sister?" Niall asks, his voice surprisingly soft even to himself. It sounds like a sweet, simple question, like he's just woken up asking ' _will you make the breakfast?_ '.

"I said, " _Stay in your room, I want to make love to Niall_ "." Harry says in that same, soft voice. ' _Yes dear, pancakes or eggs?_ '.

"You did not,"

"I did," Harry says, and kisses Niall's lips.

Niall wraps his arms around Harry's back and breathes in deeply, pulling him up, holding him close.

Harry runs both his hands underneath Niall's shirt, up his sides that are burning now. They break apart when Harry pulls the jumper over Niall's head, and Niall's eyes only open to look at Harry's lips before he's lying down again and kissing them.

Harry realizes this is the first time he's seen Niall bare chested, so he breaks away just to look down at him.

He's smooth and beautiful, even glowing in this lighting, though Harry's sure it's got nothing to do with it. He'd probably glow in the dark, and Harry makes a quick mental note to try it.

When Harry lowers himself, sliding his elbows forward, he cups his hands to hold the sides of Niall's head.

Niall holds onto Harry's hands, pressing his palms against him. They don't need anything else.

Harry wipes the sweat off of Niall's forehead when he turns his face into the carpet, his eyes closed. Niall lets out a small huff, and Harry kisses his chin. They leave the floor to tuck themselves on the couch together; Niall on the edge with his back against Harry's chest.

Harry pulls a throw down from the back of the couch and drapes it over them, making sure it covers both their whole bodies.

Niall wiggles back into Harry as much as he can and closes his eyes.

He dreams he's asking Harry, " _Why don't people praise winter romances as much as summer ones?_ ".

Harry replies: " _Maybe because they're not just romances_ ," and it takes Niall a little while to really understand it, but Harry is brewing him a bathtub of coffee and suddenly all is warm.


End file.
